Whack This Mole

Olsen on Boswell: "He could talk a dog off a meat truck, that guy."

I have to admit that's quite excellent. Fire Saint Benny anyway.

In other news, why the fucking fuck haven't I read yet that Adam Oates is fired? I mean, seriously, why didn't I read this two days ago? What the fucking fuck, Leonsis? I mean, based on what amounts to gossip*, I've mutated to the point where I won't mind if I read that you fired George McPhee, but I'm counting, Teddy Internet, and the number of days between last Sunday and the day you fire Adam Fucking Oates is no less than one half the number of days between the next time your team is playing hockey and the time I give you a fucking dime, you lying sack of dissembling horseshit.

*It is said that the Caps are on many players' "Please Massa don't trade me there" lists based on GMGM's allegedly draconian policies toward players and their agents. I have no idea whether it's really true, but based on some stuff I read and Leonis' recent publicizing of the Caps' policy on player-agent contacts after games, the story has the sweet stench of a relationship with reality. Given that GMGM has spent years walking a fine line because those years embodied his wandering horseshit on the player acquisition front (this year was the potentially saving exception, imhoe), he is no longer endearing. But Oates first, last, and always, though it pains me to say that of a guy who brought RPI a national title, even though he has no personality and no passion, and very clearly dyes his hair.**

**You may or may not recall, because you were or were not in the room***, that the first words out of my mouth after the horn for the first intermission of Adam Oates' tenure were, "Fire Oates."

***Or on the phone.

UPDATE: United news, while I'm here today (courtesy of Goff):

-Chris Pontius and the Hamstring of Doomitosis:

In his absence, United (2-2-1) has utilized Nick DeLeon, Davy Arnaud, Lewis Neal and Chris Rolfe on the flanks and relied on secondary forward Fabian Espindola to influence the attack. 

Fucking shoot me. Pontius, on whom the club has staked the future for I've lost count of how many fucking seasons now, is going to be playing in a fucking wheelchair soon.

-Bill Hamid's big toe, Chris Korb's knee injury (who the fuck cares, other than Korb and his girlfriend?), Luis Silva's giant Latin tonker (or maybe his ankle).

-Fucking shoot me some more:

With a victory Saturday, United would equal last season’s win total. Last year the club needed 22 games to achieve that — and then didn’t win again. Success in Columbus, though, does not come often: four consecutive defeats. A victory, combined with other results around the league, could also thrust United into a first-place tie in the Eastern Conference.

For 10 minutes. Fucking shoot me, again and again and again. People ask me why I gave up my season tickets. Check the last four bolded names in the Pontius blockquote. There's your fucking answer. Goddam team full of number twelves (which was once a badge of honor, but no more--in fact, the last honorable true Twelve went off to coach the fucking enemy). Am I fucking shot yet?